Chapter fifty-three

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(Song for this chapter is the winner takes it all by Mack Loren)

Week one

Dear.. me.
I decided to write again, it seems like the only right thing to do.
I don't want to talk to anyone. I don't want to see anyone. Instead, I want to write, I want to write so I can read this in the future and remind myself of a pain I never want to experience again in my life.

I've been in my bed for an entire week, only leaving when I have to use the bathroom.
In my apartment, the apartment. he fixed.
Barszik has been by my side most of the time. My poor Barszik, I feel like my lack of energy is rubbing off on him, and right now I can be considered the worst pet owner ever.

Every day is the same day on repeat. This week has consisted of crying, sobbing and feeling like my heart is getting ripped out again and again. I lay here all day long in a puddle of tears, a room filled with emptiness and the shattered pieces of a broken heart, the air consists of suffocating silence. Amalie has called and texted, but I haven't answered. I can't seem to do anything else than just lay here, hoping that the pain will disappear.

All the hearts he drew on my body, they're all breaking at the same time, and his lingering touch feels like a burning sensation on my skin. I want it to stop. I'm begging for it to stop.

Week two

Dear me,

When I first watched twilight, I fell in love with Bella and Edward. When Edward left, I used to think to myself that even though I felt bad for Bella, she was overdoing it. Overreacting. It couldn't hurt that much? I mean it's only some simple emotions, right?

I was wrong. I couldn't have been more wrong because even if you play those scenes a thousand times, it still won't do it justice. Nothing will do the feeling of getting your heart shattered by the one person you loved the one person you trusted with every piece of you.

It feels like I can't breathe, I'm opening my mouth, yet no oxygen is enough. His words are on repeat in my head, and every time I think that I don't have any more tears left, I prove myself wrong. I miss his voice, I miss his hugs, I miss his touch, I miss him.
And the worst part of it, is that I hate how much I miss him, I hate that after everything he did, I still find myself wondering if he's okay. If he's eating enough, sometimes he forgot to eat because his days were busy, and when he got sick, I always made him chicken soup, he told me that he could die being poisoned by my chicken soup and he would be dying a happy man.

Every memory of us is playing through my head, and I'm desperately searching for the stop button but it's nowhere to be found.

Week three

Dear me,

Amalie flew in yesterday. She said that she was way too worried to leave me alone. I fell apart in her arms, I laid there and cried for hours. I've never felt so vulnerable before, so broken, shattered.
When my parents died, I was young and I found a way to suppress the memories but now I'm too grown, and I remember. Suddenly my brain is my biggest enemy.

I've still not left my room, Amalie comes in with food a couple of times. I barely eat, I don't have any appetite. My lack of eating is making me lose a lot more hair, it's making my body weaker. A sick part of me is enjoying the pain, because if I'm too focused on the physical pain I can try to forget the throbbing pain in my heart.

Amalie has made it clear that she isn't leaving any time soon. I snapped at her today, and I regretted it immediately, but she understood, she always does. I guess when I was alone it still felt like a small part of him was here with me, but now he's gone. Completely gone. I don't feel him anymore. It's driving me crazy.

Amalie suggested we leave for France, she said she found a doctor program there that would be perfect for me. She can work from wherever she wants, and since her boss is her father there wont be any issues. I said no, I can't leave yet, all the what ifs are playing through my head and I'm still holding onto something that isn't there.

Week four

Dear me,

My tears have dried, and I don't have any more left. My heart isn't fully healed yet, instead of hurting I'm feeling anger. I've accepted what happened, and now I find myself digging a whole full of anger and falling into it. I don't know who I'm angry at, myself? Him? The world?

I can't do this anymore, I can't sit here and slowly suffocate. It'll take time for the wound to heal, but I've decided that I don't want to sit here anymore. I don't want to cry over someone who doesn't think, or care about me. I've decided to leave, I said yes to Amalie and we're leaving for France. I don't know how long we're going to be there, I just know that I need to breathe again, to feel free. To feel anything but numbness.

I've always said that he was like a drug, the thing with drugs is that in the moment they feel good, they can make you feel like you're on top of the world, like you have everything you need. Drugs are addicting, and what you don't realize while you're on top, is that they're slowly killing you.

Now I've had my withdrawals, it's time to get him out of my system no matter what it takes. He's not mine anymore, he's not mine to take.

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